


Rosary

by perpetuallycaffeinated



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blasphemy, Light Bondage, M/M, rosary!kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-24
Updated: 2012-05-24
Packaged: 2017-11-05 22:36:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/411748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perpetuallycaffeinated/pseuds/perpetuallycaffeinated
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean finally finds something that can leave Castiel truly bound and powerless in bed: a rosary. Short porn ficlet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rosary

This isn’t the first time they’ve played with something like this. Castiel has shoved Dean up against too many walls to not have noticed the flash of lust in his eyes, to not have finally followed a firm hand with a biting mouth.

 Not to say that they haven’t switched; Castiel is an angel, and angels were made to obey. He is not a hammer, and he has rebelled, but that doesn’t take away the shudder of desire when he allows Dean to pin him in turn.  However, the truth of the balance of power between them is always in the back of their minds.

Until now.

“You sure you can’t move against these?” Dean murmurs as he fixes the binding. Castiel merely nods in reply, flexing his hands against the thin strand of beads. It’s just a string of plastic and twine, flimsy really, but Cas isn’t play acting when he fails to break its hold on his wrists.

Castiel can break through rope without a second thought, destroy leather straps in seconds. Any binding is ineffectual against a soldier of the Lord. Except, it appears, this. One of Dean and Sam’s many cheap rosaries do what all of a sex shops worst nightmares cannot, cutting into Castiel’s flesh and binding him tight.

Dean trails a finger along the pattern of beading, lips twitching up at the corners.

“If I said a prayer for each of these, would it get you off?”

“Dean.” Castiel said the hunter’s name like a reprimand, glaring up at him even while his hands lie helpless behind his back. “I doubt that I will find any further blasphemy stimulating.”

The angel’s stink-eye doesn’t seem to have an effect on Dean. At the very least, Castiel doesn’t feel the erection pressed firmly against his ass flag at the admonishment. In fact, Dean rolls his hips forward, forcing Castiel to press his face into the pillow as his body is pushed forward. In this position, face down on his knees with his hands pinned behind his back, he can do little else. He strains ineffectually against the rosary, and feels his own cock give a little twitch.

It’s  _wrong_ _,_ for an angel to present his ass like this to a mortal man, Righteous Man or not. It’s wrong for Castiel to arch his back when he realizes that he was right, that Dean can do  _anything_ to him while this cheap trinket is wrapped around his wrists. And it’s wrong for the knowledge to make his cock twitch between his legs, thicken and lengthen even further as he lets the hunter push his legs apart.  

“This feels different…” Dean continues, rolling his hips forward again. Castiel grunts in response, angling his hips up so that the other man slides in between his cheeks. “And I bet it would,” he teases, sliding a lubed finger into Castiel’s ass as he mockingly adapts what he knows of a catechism. “Hail Castiel, full of Grace…”

Castiel knows Dean speaks in jest, but his Grace still registers the utterance as a prayer, and he feels it flare brighter in his chest. He moans in response, a call-and-response prayer to slick carnal pleasure as Dean’s finger pushes in farther, finds the place inside of him that makes him fall apart. Bucking back onto the digit, Castiel’s body arches, shoulder blades sticking out in a base parody of wings.

“Sorry, Cas. I don’t know any more…” Dean is speaking again, now bending to trail kisses along the lines of Castiel’s scapulae. His free hand trails up and down the curve of Castiel’s back, tripping up and over his wrists and the beads which hold them bound. Another finger joins its brother inside of Castiel, and the angel does not want to be Castiel, full of Grace—just full of Dean, as much as there is to give.

Behind him, Castiel hears Dean continue to speak, making up playful, blasphemous prayers for each of the beads on his rosary as he continues to fuck the angel with his fingers. His Grace reacts to each one, and it leaves the angel a shaking heap of faith and pleasure, twisting and squirming fruitlessly on the motel bed.

It is only a few more moments before Dean replaces his fingers with his cock, and while Castiel thought he had come undone before, it is only now that he sobs into the pillow. Scrabbling for purchase on the cheap sheets he does his best to force his body back against Dean’s rough thrusts. The cheap plastic beads cut into his wrists, and he can feel them bruising his flesh already. Somehow, he knows that these bruises will remain with him for days on end.

And so he pulls them tighter against him as Dean continues to drive into him, the angel’s name spilling forth between ragged curses and gasps of his Father’s name. Castiel pulls so that every bead bites into his flesh like a lover, and for each one he moans a prayer.


End file.
